


Rearrange The Stars

by geckoholic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Torture, Scars, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 04:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Shiro slowly opens his eyes to Keith kneeling between his spread legs. Keith's head is tilted a bit to the side, surveying the web of rope and knots he used to bind Shiro's wrists and ankles to the bed frame.





	Rearrange The Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotemundTabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/gifts).



> You didn't give much by the way of details, so I mostly went with your requested tags for inspiration. Enjoy!
> 
> Not beta'd because my time-management is a tragedy, lately, so all remaining mistakes are most definitely mine.
> 
> Title is from "Light" by Sleeping At Last.

Shiro's eyes are closed. It's an exercise; it's an additional show of trust. Evidence that he believes Keith will stay, now. They both struggled with that, for a while – the fear that the person they love most in the entire universe would disappear as soon as they leave them out of their sight for even a second. But it's been years, and they're both still here, safe and sound in each other's hold. 

“Good?” Keith asks. “Or are they too tight?” 

Shiro slowly opens his eyes to Keith kneeling between his spread legs. Keith's head is tilted a bit to the side, surveying the web of rope and knots he used to bind Shiro's wrists and ankles to the bed frame. He looks absorbed in his tasks, thoughtful, focused. Shiro smiles. He pulls at the rope, tests its strength, its give, his scant range of movement. The sensations of being bound send a shiver down his spine that starts out as alarm but smooths out into arousal by the time it settles in his crotch, hot and exciting. “They're perfectly done. Don't worry.” 

The answering smile on Keith's lips turns mischievous. “Ready?” 

His tone, his expression, do their part to send Shiro's blood rushing down south. He moans, well aware that it will guide Keith's gaze lower, to his growing erection, and he long since abandoned all shame he had for getting off on this – immobilized and exposed to Keith's gaze, unable to so much as turn over or move his legs in order to hide the extend of his arousal. He cherishes the little intake of breath Keith gives at the sight. 

“You're beautiful,” Keith says, his fingers tracing a long jagged scar that winds around Shiro's hipbone. “All of you. So gorgeous.” 

Shiro can feel his face heat at the compliment and swallows down the urge to argue. His body is littered with scars, years worth of battle wounds and ugly reminders of his Galra captivity. That's all he sees when he looks into a mirror, but Keith – Keith sees something else. 

“All of you,” Keith repeats, as if he's guessed Shiro's thoughts. 

He follows another scar, one of his oldest, curled underneath his ribcage. It's surgical, clean, precise. To this day, Shiro doesn't remember all the Galra did to him. He's grateful, although the knowledge that his body carries memories of past hurts so heavy, so traumatic, that his brain locked them them away forever is somewhat eerie and unsettling. Shiro wants to close his eyes again, but resists; now it'd be hiding, an escape, and that's against the rules. 

Keith leans down to kiss a taser scar from one of their last battles with the coalition that sits high up on Shiro's left pectoral. He kisses a little lower, and lower still, until he's reached Shiro's nipple, tongue teasing at the quickly hardening nub, teeth scraping along his areola in threat, in promise. Shiro whines with need. He rocks his hips up as much as the rope allows, hard cock twitching. 

All that gains him is moment's respite and a chiding click of Keith's tongue before he turns his attention to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment until they're both peaked and sensitive. 

“Please,” Shiro breathes out, but Keith only moves lower, his hand fanning out over a large, nearly circular scar below Shiro's belly button. That one, Keith was around for. It bought Shiro three days in the healing pods, three days and nights that Keith hardly slept. The memory is painful for both of them, but the position also means that Keith's hand is _this close_ to where Shiro wants it most. His breath hitches. He bites his lips to keep from begging, knows it would only cause Keith to make him wait that much longer for release. 

Of course, Keith reads Shiro's reactions anyway, smirks at the unvoiced plea, and moves even lower. His mouth hovers over Shiro's dick for a moment, hot breath as almost as intense as a touch and yet not nearly enough, and then he turns his attention to a knife scare high on Shiro's inner thigh. His finger tips dance over the darkened flesh, standing out on too-pale skin, like all of Shiro's scars. To him, they feel highlighted, feel like they overshadow the rest of his body, ugly, marring, marks of too many near-misses. To Keith, he's explained to Shiro time and time again, they're reminders of all that Shiro survived, his strength and will and tenacity, and they only make him more beautiful. 

They'll never quite agree, but they both gain something from this, at least, from giving and receiving comfort and praise. 

It's a surprise when Keith moves again, upwards this time, and seals his lips around the tip of Shiro's cock, sucking gently. Shiro moans, trashing in his bonds, and tries his best not to fuck up into the Keith's mouth on pure instinct. Keith licks around the head, takes him in a little further, and pleasure all but explodes through Shiro's veins. He must taste like salty precome right now, leaking from the sudden attention to his dick, and he'd feel bad but experience taught him that, as much as Shiro gets off on surrender, Keith gets off on his reactions, physical or otherwise. Shiro cranes his head and sees it; sees Keith's right hand moving between Keith's own legs, stroking himself while he holds the base of Shiro's cock with his left. Some days, he comes even before Shiro does, but Shiro's rather certain today won't be like that. He's shivering all over, with pleasure, with need, getting ever closer to the edge. 

He moans. He rocks his hips, slightly. He wants to touch Keith back, card his hands through Keith's hair, brush his thumb over Keith's cheek, and it's thrilling, exhilarating, that he can't. He's at Keith's mercy, right now. Keith could stop at any time, bring himself off to paint Shiro's body with his come while refusing Shiro his own release and let him lie here, exposed, needy, desperate, for hours. He won't, he hasn't so far, but he _could_ , and the thought pushes Shiro over the edge. 

He strains against his bonds yet again, whining, moaning, crying out. Keith swallows around him and it's too much and it's perfect. He slumps back against the pillows once he's done, blinks, and see's Keith kneel over him, cock in hand, jerking himself fast, faster, painting Shiro's stomach with hot stripes of come. 

As soon as he's done, Keith surges forward for a quick, filthy kiss. He grins, wide and happy. He hops off the bed and Shiro can hear him pad into the bathroom for cleanup, to go get a warm wet cloth to clean Shiro up, too. Shiro's eyes are fluttering closed, utterly exhausted in the aftermath. He fights to stay awake but it's good to know, to really _know_ deep down in his bones, that he could fall asleep like this and Keith would take care of him, protect him, keep him safe. 

It's the best feeling in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [All Tied Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495702) by [Soulstoned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulstoned/pseuds/Soulstoned)




End file.
